


All in a Night

by Gem_Gem, KittieHill



Series: Kittie And Gem Stories [17]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempt at humour, Humour, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Naked Sherlock, Naked Sleeping, Random & Short, Sharing a Bed, Short, Sleep, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12171618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: Snorting to awareness at John’s voice, Sherlock pushed up groggily, “Mm? – Your leg?”“Yes, my leg!” John exclaimed in response, pointing at the exact spot on his thigh where Sherlock's testicles had been laid seconds beforehand. “Why are you naked? And why were you pushed against me?”“Stop being so loud,” Sherlock complained instead of answering John’s questions. He glanced at the time and then pulled a face, gesturing for John to get back in the bed. “It’s horribly early – How can you get on at me for being up at ungodly hours when you, yourself, do it?”





	All in a Night

Sharing a bed with Sherlock wasn’t exactly a big deal to John. Not any more. Not since he’d been doing it off and on, for cases and apparently also not for cases, for a few years now. However there was always that line between them, a line that hadn’t been crossed and one that John didn’t want to be crossed – or that’s what he told himself, because friends of the same gender should ultimately not do crossing the line things – until, of course, he wasn’t given much of a choice. Through all of their bed sharing, they’d always, more or less, kept to ‘their’ side, wearing clothes or pyjamas, until John woke up to find himself sharing a bed with a very clingy and very naked Sherlock.

John blinked, sleep-addled and confused, rapidly attempting to work out where he was and why Sherlock was so close, before he pushed Sherlock back and climbed from the bed to stand at the edge of the bed with a red face, “Why are your _bollocks out_?” he half-choked in the weak, filtering dawn light as Sherlock jolted at his sudden movement, “and why were they resting on my _leg_?”

Snorting to awareness at John’s voice, Sherlock pushed up groggily, “Mm? – Your leg?”

“ _Yes_ , my _leg_!” John exclaimed in response, pointing at the exact spot on his thigh where Sherlock's testicles had been laid seconds beforehand. “ _Why_ are you naked? And _why_ were you pushed against me?”

“ _Stop_ being so _loud_ ,” Sherlock complained instead of answering John’s questions. He glanced at the time and then pulled a face, gesturing for John to get back in the bed. “It’s _horribly_ early – How can you get on at me for being up at ungodly hours when you, yourself, do it?”

“Your _penis_ is out!” John spluttered in a shout, shaking his head, overcome. “You're _completely_ ignoring the issue, and the issue is your _genitals_. On my _leg_. _All night_.”

“It clearly wasn’t all night. You’re being overly dramatic – Get back in the bed,” Sherlock told him.

“Not until you cover it with… your pants or, God a _sock_ , anything! I don't care, just cover it up,” John said, folding his arms uncomfortably.

Sherlock scoffed, “No,” he replied and turned his back on John, exposing the length of his back and the top of his naked buttocks.

John sighed, rolling his neck, thought about leaving the stroppy, naked detective alone for the rest of the night and going to his room, but ultimately climbed back in the bed. Though not before he had reached for the spare pillow under his head and jammed it between them, “I don't understand why you're naked. Is this an experiment? See how far you can push John before he explodes? Hmm?”

“No,” Sherlock drawled. “I felt unwell during the night. Overly hot and sick. So I stripped to get cool, after vomiting.”

Suddenly, concerned, he turned around to look at Sherlock, “You were sick? You should have woken me. Everything alright? What's the matter?”

“I felt better after. Everything was bad until the vomit. After the vomit, things were fine,” Sherlock said, looking over his shoulder at John. “Something obviously didn’t agree with me.”

“Turn over?” John asked, putting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder to tempt him around. “Can I check your temperature?”

Sherlock sighed but obliged and rolled over on the bed to face him, “I’m fine now. I got it out of my system – whatever it was.”

John checked Sherlock's eyes, pushing back his eyelids, and then put a hand on Sherlock's forehead, “Hmm, not too hot. Must have been one of those odd things that sometimes happens.” He moved his hand down to press a little on Sherlock's abdomen. “Tender?”

“No,” Sherlock replied with a small yawn, shifting around to lie on his back. “My throat hurts and I can still taste and smell my own sick but…other than that.”

“Want me to get you a drink?” John asked, pulling his hand away from Sherlock's stomach. “I think I have a pack of mints in my work bag if you want them?”

“In the morning,” Sherlock said dismissively, pulling the sheets up to cover his hips. “For now, I want to sleep with you.”

“Er – yeah, that's – fine,” John nodded awkwardly, keeping the pillow between them firmly in place. “Go back to sleep.”

Sherlock gave him a look of irritation and then snorted at the pillow before rolling onto his side again with his back facing John, “I don’t see what your issue is. My penis isn’t dirty or diseased, you know. Nor is my scrotum. I feel like I should be mildly offended.”

“I know you're not dirty,” John sighed, looking at the back of Sherlock's head. “It's just – its a bit _intimate_ to have ball sweat on your leg from a bloke you're not in a relationship with.”

“They aren’t sweaty. Warm, yes, but not sweaty…not any more anyway, I wiped the sweat off my body before I got back into the bed,” Sherlock said, peering back at him with a sudden frown. “We _are_ in a relationship.”

John laughed at the first part of the statement, but then frowned and coughed at the second, “ _What_? No we're not...”

Sherlock leaned up on one elbow, “ _Yes_ we are. Unless you’ve suddenly revoked our friendship?”

“Friendships and relationships are different...” John said, holding back another sigh. “Relationships have intimacy and kissing and sex. Friendships… well, don't.”

“Friendship is a type of relationship,” Sherlock argued. “It’s literally a synonym of friendship.”

“Well yes, I'm not arguing with that...” John said with an annoyed tick of his jaw, scrubbing at his hair. “But we're not in a _proper_ relationship… not a romantic one anyway… which is what I immediately think of when relationship is mentioned.”

“Oh. Well, don’t think that then,” Sherlock muttered turning away, only to look back again. “Do you _want_ to be?”

“What?” John asked with a coughing laugh, frowning deeply. “ _Why_ are you asking that… _do you_?”

Sherlock eyed him up with a squint and a tensed pursing of his mouth, and then turned away once more, “Night.”

“ _No_ , don't do that,” John said, touching Sherlock's back, in-between his shoulder blades, with a pushing nudge. “Why did you ask? I'm – curious, and er… interested?” Unprepared for such a thing to stumble from his mouth, John stiffened with wide eyes and looked down with a hard swallow. Was he interested?

Sherlock twisted his torso to look at him, “You _are_?” he asked lowly. “Why?”

“I don’t—Wait, what do you mean _why_? Firstly – have you _seen_ yourself?” John scoffed impulsively, rolling his eyes. “You're bloody gorgeous, and you _know_ it, so yeah… that's a plus. The looks thing. Secondly, you know, you're my best friend. I trust you and I know you'd respect me, despite what you might say to the contrary. Or _do_ to the contrary. And you know me...more than...most possibly, and  you...I...we… forget it. Let’s just, carry on - I didn't think you did... that? Relationships?”

“I normally don’t. Obviously,” Sherlock replied with a sigh.

“But you want to _now_?… With me?” John asked slowly in a whisper, feeling heat rush up his cheeks.

“Have you _seen_ yourself?” Sherlock shot back with an arched eyebrow. “Look, we’ll discuss this later. After we sleep.”

“ _What_? You want to sleep? Now? _Now_?” John asked, frustrated, overwhelmed, and entirely confused. “You ask me this and then want to go back to _sleep_? - Why don't we discuss it now?”

“Because I’m _actually_ exhausted – Shouldn’t you be happy I’m wanting to sleep for once?” Sherlock asked him, turning around completely. “Make up your mind. Either you want me to get sleep or you don’t.”

“I want to sleep… but I want to talk too,” John mumbled, sitting up slightly and clenching his eyes closed with a long sigh. “Ten minutes of talking and then we can sleep?”

“No,” Sherlock groused. “There’s nothing more to discuss. I find you attractive, you find me attractive. Evidently you’ve had sexual relationships with men in the past? - I asked if you wanted to change our ‘relationship’ and you seemed keen to do so, which we can sort out later if we must.”

“That's not – that's not how things like this happen,” John laughed shortly, dropping his head forward and scrubbing a few fingers against the bridge of his nose, and the beginnings of a headache. “ _Bloody hell_ , trust you to make it sound so easy. We need to talk, to discuss what we want from the relationship… what our expectations are… whether we're going to y'know, have a physical relationship at all—If we’re even going to be in a relationship. Which we might not. It’s all just...up in the air...right now...right?”

“ _Later_! I want to sleep,” Sherlock whined loudly, covering his face with his hands for a moment before he threw them up. “ _How_ can you go crazy over my genitals touching your leg previously, like I have some _contagious virus_ , but _now_ you want to talk about whether or not we might shag in the future?”

“ _Because_ when we were just friends, it was weird to have your genitals on me! But if you're my _boyfriend_...” John cringed at the word, it seeming so childish and immature, and felt weird on his tongue, “then… I don't know, it's okay?”

Sherlock lifted both eyebrows, “Right, well, good to know – Good night.”

“I can't _believe_ you're going to sleep,” John huffed, turning his back on Sherlock with clenched teeth and fisted hands, “you're a right _arse_. This is a _big_ thing for me, a _huge_ step and you're _ignoring_ it like it can be forgotten until you've had your eight hours!”

Sherlock exhaled roughly in response and grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back around, glowering at him from his lashes, “Wouldn’t you rather I be lucid for the conversation?” he asked, shifting closer and removing the pillow from between them with a purpose tilt of his head, throwing it up against the headboard. “If it’s _big_ and _important_ , then I’d rather talk about it with you when I’m _not_ tired as all hell.” He looked over John’s face, hesitated, and then stroked his cheek with his knuckles. Trailing heat over the ragged scratch of John’s stubble.

“I just...I'm just not sure...I’m afraid, all right? This could...” John whispered, putting his forehead against Sherlock's so he didn’t have to look into the darting, searching gaze of his. “I've never done this…a relationship...a proper one... not with a man. My experiences with men – which yes, I had, well done you – were mostly physical, rushed affairs at the side of tents or in the bushes in the desert. I've never been with a man I – have feelings for. That scares me just a bit.” He tentatively put a hand on Sherlock's naked hip, his breath catching at the sharp jolt up his spine and clench of his chest. God this wasn’t something he thought he’d even wanted.

“Not much will change,” Sherlock shrugged, taking hold of John’s elbow to pull him in to rest closer. “We just might… _occasionally_ …do…something?—Look, I’ve not done this either so it’s just as big and important a first for me too. But I need to sleep to process it all properly and be...good...for you.”

John felt his lips twitch upwards and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, letting his head rest on Sherlock's curly crown, “Fine. You win. Sleep now. We can talk later… there's no rush, I suppose,” he promised as he stroked up and down Sherlock's bony spine, half frowning at the thinness of the man.

Scoffing, Sherlock sank against him gently, “ _Good_. Fine. – Later on in the morning. I swear.”

“Hm-mm. You better,” John smirked, snuffling out a small chuckle as he relaxed back into bed, his heart thundering, mind a mess, but oddly content with what may be ahead. Things were always such a rush when it came with living and knowing, Sherlock Holmes.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels us! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Kittie's Tumblr](http://kittiekatthings.tumblr.com/)  
> [Kittie's Twitter](https://twitter.com/herekittiekat)  
> [Gem's Tumblr](http://gem-gem-bites.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
